


Angel

by orlesiantitans



Series: 100 Themes [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Babies, F/M, Pregnancy, Sappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5440109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlesiantitans/pseuds/orlesiantitans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn’t sure who initiated it, all he knew was that one moment he was watching her, and the next moment he had an armful of Leliana. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around his neck, and his arms circled her waist, just above her rear. It was… intimate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel

She was a metaphor for herself.

Pure white skin, innocence in her eyes and her smile, Zevran found himself immediately drawn to her. She was like a lamb, someone who needed a hand to hold, someone who needed guidance.

However, it was when the two of them were sat by the fire those late nights at camp, watching and laughing as Alistair and the Warden fumbled their way around one another, that he discovered she was anything but innocent. Similar to himself, in a way. Her hair hung around her face, blood red and revealing a piece of her true nature.

She had as much blood on her hands as he did, she just wore it better.

It was in camp that he first propositioned her, and she’d flushed slightly and given him a reprimand, telling him that she wasn’t just going to jump into bed with him. He’d corrected her and told her he _technically_ didn’t have a bed, he had a tent with a blanket in it, but apparently that was a bad answer. She’d hit him over the head and told him not to be smart before storming off to her tent.

Needless to say, he didn’t try again for a while.

It was strange, how life went on as their friendship grew. He bantered with Alistair and the Warden, flirted with Wynne, got drunk with Oghren and… well, he was mostly ignored by Morrigan and Sten. It didn’t bother him, to be honest, the apostate was so icy he was surprised he hadn’t been frozen to death just by one of her glares yet, and the large Qunari… he just hated everyone, and Zevran _enjoyed_ living. It suited him.

There was no privacy in camp, however, and it was always interesting to see how things developed. Morrigan tended to sit at the edge of camp, endlessly studying the Grimoire the Warden had obtained from her mother. Sten had a strange habit of having a growling match with Barker, the dog. Wynne was constantly reading something or other. He’d gone to sit with her once, asking her if it was dirty, and if so could she read it to him. She’d proceeded to hit him over the head with it, so he took that as a no and went back to his usual spot by the fire.

Oghren just sat by his tent and got drunk. But he didn’t just do that in camp, so it was a surprise to no one.

Leliana, for her part, usually sat with her lute- sometimes next to him, sometimes in her own tent- and sung songs quietly under her breath. He preferred it when she was next to him, she had a beautiful voice and even if he didn’t understand the words to some of the songs he found himself humming them at times. Fortunately, he hadn’t hummed it while she was around- he would never have heard the end of it.

The Warden and Alistair were just… fumbly. He would have found it adorable, were it not for how _embarrassingly_ awkward they were with one another. Eventually, however, he saw them sneak off to the Warden’s tent, and heard Leliana laugh next to him.

“I was beginning to wonder if they were ever going to go to bed together,” she murmured, and he smirked in reply.

“Yes, I couldn’t agree more. Shame, I’d already devised a plan to embarrass them into spending the night together.”

She let out a peal of laughter, “Can you imagine it? You’ve missed an opportunity, the blush on Alistair’s face would likely set him on fire!”

Both of them sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. That was, until the gasps started coming from the tent behind them.

“Ah, and it seems the night of passion has begun! Come, Leliana, let’s find a less… intrusive place to talk, yes?” he suggested, but he could see a smile beginning to play at the edge of her mouth.

“My dear Leliana, it seems you are devising something in that pretty little head of yours. Come, let’s hear it!”

She leaned over and whispered her plan in his ear, and his smile grew with every word. She reached for her lute and went to stand directly outside of the tent, plucking a few notes on it before beginning to sing in a sweet voice. He moved to stand next to her, and he could hear a (much less pleased) sigh leave the Warden, and an (altogether embarrassed) groan leave Alistair.

“Leliana, I love you, but if you don’t fuck off right now, the Maker won’t save you,” came the voice of the Warden from inside, and Leliana sniggered.

“Have fun!” she replied, and pulled Zevran off by the wrist and into her tent (directly, he noticed, next to the Wardens, though it provided a blissful silence from the sounds of their actions).

There, both of them burst into laughter, the entire situation too entertaining to bear. It seemed that even in times of peril, fun was to be had, and moments of levity (while hard to come by) were necessary for the sake of sanity.

He watched her for a few moments as their laughter died down, and a tension fell over them. He was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact he was in her tent.

He wasn’t sure who initiated it, all he knew was that one moment he was watching her, and the next moment he had an armful of Leliana. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around his neck, and his arms circled her waist, just above her rear. It was… intimate. More intimate than he was used to, certainly, the world he lived in was one of simple passions, of roughness and taking what you could get to sate a desire or to trick someone in order to fill a contract. It was not one of tenderness, not one where a woman opened for him like a petal.

And certainly not one with women like Leliana.

She was soft beneath him, easy to lose himself in. When she reached her climax, he swiftly followed, burying his head in her shoulder and letting out a breath.

He felt like he wanted to cry. There was something tender blooming in his chest. And he knew immediately that he could do this again.

Sex was primal. Instinctive to him. Love…

Love was something else altogether.

* * *

He knew he’d hurt her. She’d propositioned him again, and he’d turned her down. He’d seen the confusion, the hurt in her eyes, watched her pull away from him with a rueful smile. She thought he regretted it, and the worst part was… he wasn’t sure he could say he didn’t regret it.

He didn’t regret it in the way she thought he did. He hadn’t thought it was awful, or that they should just stay friends, or any of the things he should have felt. Quite the opposite, really.

He regretted it because it made things complicated. More complicated than they had to be. If it had just been sex, sex the way he was used to, then it would have been fine. But he’d let himself grow close to her and _then_ slept with her. And it felt wrong to do it again because sex was a tool. He didn’t use it on people he cared about.

He barely looked up when he felt someone sit next to him, only giving a brief smile to the Warden, who looked absolutely _livid_.

He couldn’t help his yelp of pain when she grabbed him by the ear and pulled him to the edge of camp, fixing him with a steady glare.

“What in the name of the Maker did you do to Leliana?” she asked, and he reeled before retreating behind his usual joking exterior.

“Why, Warden, I didn’t know you were interested in our dear friend. I suggest you tell Alistair sooner rather than later, he seems rather taken with you- ow!” his hand flew up to his cheek when she slapped him. She raised a slim eyebrow.

“Stop joking around, Zevran. We went to bathe earlier and she burst into tears, telling me you had _rejected_ her after spending the night with her. She is a very, very dear friend, and I expect an explanation.”

He sighed, “I believe I may… feel for her. In a way I shouldn’t.”

She stared at him in shock. Then, slowly, her lips twitched into a smile before she began to laugh, doubling over in her mirth.

“Maker’s breath!” she got out in between laughs. “You turned her down… you said Alistair and I were bad!”

He folded his arms across his chest, letting out a sigh.

“Sex has always been a tool to me, Warden. it feels… wrong, to engage in it with someone I care about and… I don’t know how to appropriately tell her how I feel.”

The Warden’s eyes softened and she reached across, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Honestly, Zevran, it’s not that hard. Give her a gift, or something, just… stop ignoring her. She doesn’t understand where she went wrong,” she smiled at him, gently, before turning around and heading over to Alistair. She walked into his arms, and Zevran frowned, reaching his hand into his pocket and fingering the earring there as the Warden and Alistair embraced. Simple affection, so easy and something that he wanted.

‘Give her a gift, or something.’

He pulled out the earring, and smiled.

* * *

“Leliana, might I…”

“Oh, so _now_ you wish to speak with me,” she said, voice thick with venom. He sighed and sat in front of her, meeting her eyes hesitantly.

He took a deep breath, “Leliana, I felt things that night with you, things I… I was frightened of them. My feelings. Sex has always been a tool for me, but this… this was different. Probably because I was already close to you before it happened, I don’t know, but…” he breathed out.

“This sounded better in my head. But I spoke to the Warden, and she suggested I give you a gift to express it. This earring, I took as a prize from my first assassination. I have kept it with me for a long time, but now… I wish to pass it on to you.”

She stared at him for a long moment, before moving forwards, pressing her lips to his. For a human woman, she was slightly short, and standing she matched him for size. He pulled her closer to him, and her hand clasped around one of his a tender action he knew he would have to get used to.

When he took her to the tent that night, he heard two terribly tone deaf voices singing loudly outside and laughed lightly against her shoulder. She rolled her eyes, and they continued, exaggerating the amount of noise they made in order to drive the two Wardens away. If nothing else, the two were at least easily embarrassed.

* * *

The few months that followed were a flurry of activity. The Landsmeet, the announcement that the Warden was to be Queen (despite various protests), the defeat of the Archdemon. And yet, Leliana had stood at his side. He’d never had anyone to rely on, and suddenly he had steadfast friends and a lover who insisted she wouldn’t leave him for the world.

Their wedding occurred shortly after Alistair and the Warden’s, the two of them wed in a small Chantry on the outskirts of Redcliffe. Leliana had confessed she wished she could go to Lothering, but it was clearly impossible considering the destruction that had destroyed the village.

However, the best moment of his life was the day his little girl was born, her mother radiant and glowing as she held the tiny gift from the Maker in her arms. He himself was more reluctant to hold the child, concerned that the blood on his hands would stain her. But when he looked down at the child in his arms, tiny pointed ears peeking out from underneath a halo of bright red hair, he felt fit to burst.

For a man unused to love, he found himself experiencing it very frequently. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, played fast and loose with lore. I know elf-blooded babies are human (a la Alistair, Michel de Chevin, Feynriel etc.) but teeny tiny elf baby... meep.


End file.
